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E. T. Merrill, Commentary on Catullus (ed. E. T. Merrill), Poem 64 (search)
n *)attikai/, foitw=sai de\ e)s to\n *parnasso\n para\ e)/tos au)tai/ te kai\ ai( gunai=kes *delfw=n a)/gousin o)/rgia *dionu/sw| . Mavors: antique and poetic form for Mars. rapidi Tritonis hera: i.e. Athena, called *tritoge/neia by Hom. Il. 8.39, etc., probably from the river Triton in Boeotia (Strab. IX. 407; Paus. 9.33.7), rather than from the lake, or river, Triton in Libya (Hdt. 4.178; Plin. NH 5.28). Rhamnusia virgo: i.e. Nemesis, so called from her famous temple at Rhamnus in Attica; cf. Catul. 66.71; Catul. 68.77; Ov. Met. 3.406 adsensit precibus Rhamnusia iustis ; Stat. Silv. 3.5.5 audiat infesto licet hoc Rhamnusia vultu . Ares and Athena often encourage men to battle in the Iliad, but this function on the part
C. Valerius Catullus, Carmina (ed. Leonard C. Smithers), Poem 45 (search)
Septimius, holding his lover Acme in his lap, says, "My Acme, if I do not love you to death, and am not prepared to love you constantly all the years in time to come, as much and the most as one can who is desperately in love— alone in Libya or in torrid India may I come face to face with a grey-eyed lion." When he said this, Love, leftwards as before, with approbation rightwards sneezed. Then Acme slightly bending back her head, and kissed the intoxicated eyes of her sweet boy with her rose-red lips. "So," she said, "my life, Septimillus, we shall serve this lord alone from now on, as greater, keener fire burns the more amid my soft marrow." When she said this, Love, leftwards as before, with approbation rightwards sneezed. Now made complete under good auspices, with mutual minds th
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 1, Poem 1 (search)
Maecenas, born of monarch ancestors, The shield at once and glory of my life! There are who joy them in the Olympic strife And love the dust they gather in the course; The goal by hot wheels shunn'd, the famous prize, Exalt them to the gods that rule mankind; This joys, if rabbles fickle as the wind Through triple grade of honours bid him rise, That, if his granary has stored away Of Libya's thousand floors the yield entire; The man who digs his field as did his sire, With honest pride, no Attalus may sway By proffer'd wealth to tempt Myrtoan seas, The timorous captain of a Cyprian bark. The winds that make Icarian billows dark The merchant fears, and hugs the rural ease Of his own village home; but soon, ashamed Of penury, he refits his batter'd craft. There is, who thinks no scorn of Massic draught, Who robs the daylight of an hour unblamed, Now stretch'd beneath the arbute on the sward, Now by some gentle river's sacred spring; Some love the camp, the clarion's joyous ring, And ba
Q. Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Odes (ed. John Conington), Book 2, Poem 2 (search)
The silver, Sallust, shows not fair While buried in the greedy mine: You love it not till moderate wear Have given it shine. Honour to Proculeius! he To brethren play'd a father's part; Fame shall embalm through years to be That noble heart. Who curbs a greedy soul may boast More power than if his broad-based throne Bridged Libya's sea, and either coast Were all his own. Indulgence bids the dropsy grow; Who fain would quench the palate's flame Must rescue from the watery foe The pale weak frame. Phraates, throned where Cyrus sate, May count for blest with vulgar herds, But not with Virtue; soon or late From lying words She weans men's lips; for him she keeps The crown, the purple, and the bays, Who dares to look on treasure-heaps With unblench'd gaze.
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More), Book 2, line 193 (search)
e lofty Alps, the cloud-topped Apennines. And Phaethon, as he inhaled the air, burning and scorching as a furnace blast, and saw destruction on the flaming world, and his great chariot wreathed in quenchless fires, was suddenly unable to endure the heat, the smoke and cinders, and he swooned away.— if he had known the way, those winged steeds would rush as wild unguided.— then the skin of Ethiopians took a swarthy hue, the hot blood tingling to the surface: then the heat dried up the land of Libya; dishevelled, the lorn Nymphs, lamenting, sought for all their emptied springs and lakes in vain; Boeotia wailed for Dirce's cooling wave, and Argos wailed for Amymone's stream— and even Corinth for the clear Pyrene. Not safer from the flames were distant streams;— the Tanais in middle stream was steaming and old Peneus and Teuthrantian Caicus, Ismenus, rapid and Arcadian Erymanthus; and even Xanthus destined for a second burning, and tawny-waved Lycormas, and Meander, turning and twisting,
P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More), Book 5, line 74 (search)
And Phorbas the descendant of Methion. Who hailed from far Syene, with his friend Amphimedon of Libya, in their haste to join the battle, slipped up in the blood and fell together: just as they arose that glittering sword was driven through the throat of Phorbas into the ribs of his companion. But Erithus, the son of Actor, swung a battle-ax, so weighty, Perseus chose not combat with his curving blade. He seized in his two hands a huge bowl, wrought around with large design, outstanding from its mass. This, lifting up, he dashes on his foe, who vomits crimson blood, and falling back beats on the hard floor with his dying head. And next he slew Caucasian Abaris, and Polydaemon—from Semiramis nobly descended—and Sperchius, son, Lycetus, long-haired Elyces, unshorn, Clytus and Phlegias, the hero slew;— and trampled on the dying heaped around. Not daring to engage his enemy in open contest, Phineus held aloof, and hurled his javelin. Badly aimed—by some mischance or turned—it wounded
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 12 (search)
ere vast, and ruthless was its quest of war. 'T is said that Juno, of all lands she loved, most cherished this,—not Samos' self so dear. Here were her arms, her chariot; even then a throne of power o'er nations near and far, if Fate opposed not, 't was her darling hope to 'stablish here; but anxiously she heard that of the Trojan blood there was a breed then rising, which upon the destined day should utterly o'erwhelm her Tyrian towers, a people of wide sway and conquest proud should compass Libya's doom;—such was the web the Fatal Sisters spun. Such was the fear of Saturn's daughter, who remembered well what long and unavailing strife she waged for her loved Greeks at Troy. Nor did she fail to meditate th' occasions of her rage, and cherish deep within her bosom proud its griefs and wrongs: the choice by Paris made; her scorned and slighted beauty; a whole race rebellious to her godhead; and Jove's smile that beamed on eagle-ravished Ganymede. With all these thoughts infuriate, her p
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 157 (search)
Aeneas' wave-worn crew now landward made, and took the nearest passage, whither lay the coast of Libya. A haven there walled in by bold sides of a rocky isle, offers a spacious and secure retreat, where every billow from the distant main breaks, and in many a rippling curve retires. Huge crags and two confronted promontories frown heaven-high, beneath whose brows outspread the silent, sheltered waters; on the heights the bright and glimmering foliage seems to show a woodland amphitheatre; and yet higher rises a straight-stemmed grove of dense, dark shade. Fronting on these a grotto may be seen, o'erhung by steep cliffs; from its inmost wall clear springs gush out; and shelving seats it has of unhewn stone, a place the wood-nymphs love. In such a port, a weary ship rides free of weight of firm-fluked anchor or strong chain.
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 223 (search)
After these things were past, exalted Jove, from his ethereal sky surveying clear the seas all winged with sails, lands widely spread, and nations populous from shore to shore, paused on the peak of heaven, and fixed his gaze on Libya. But while he anxious mused, near him, her radiant eyes all dim with tears, nor smiling any more, Venus approached, and thus complained: “O thou who dost control things human and divine by changeless laws, enthroned in awful thunder! What huge wrong could my Aeneas and his Trojans few achieve against thy power? For they have borne unnumbered deaths, and, failing Italy, the gates of all the world against them close. Hast thou not given us thy covenant that hence the Romans when the rolling years have come full cycle, shall arise to power from Troy's regenerate seed, and rule supreme the unresisted lords of land and sea? O Sire, what swerves thy will? How oft have I in Troy's most lamentable wreck and woe consoled my heart with this, and balanced oft our d
P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid (ed. Theodore C. Williams), Book 1, line 561 (search)
Bid care begone! It was necessity, and my young kingdom's weakness, which compelled the policy of force, and made me keep such vigilant sentry my wide co'ast along. Aeneas and his people, that fair town of Troy—who knows them not? The whole world knows those valorous chiefs and huge, far-flaming wars. Our Punic hearts are not of substance all insensible and dull: the god of day drives not his fire-breathing steeds so far from this our Tyrian town. If ye would go to great Hesperia, where Saturn reigned, or if voluptuous Eryx and the throne of good Acestes be your journey's end, I send you safe; I speed you on your way. But if in these my realms ye will abide, associates of my power, behold, I build this city for your own! Choose haven here for your good ships. Beneath my royal sway Trojan and Tyrian equal grace will find. But O, that this same storm had brought your King. Aeneas, hither! I will bid explore our Libya's utmost bound, where haply he in wilderness or hamlet wanders lost.
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